Mar. 14, 2007
It may have been the only time in my life that I felt actual despair. It appeared in an instant under very ordinary circumstances. I was in a parking lot next to my apartment complex. It was a normal day. A woman I’d seen dozens of times before walked by me. She was handicapped. Physically handicapped. Mentally handicapped. Capable enough to walk by herself down the road. Probably not capable of many of life’s other pleasures.
Not long before I had held a belief that made circumstances like this seem more tolerable. Her soul must have been so special that God was protecting her from "the world" by handicapping her mental abilities. Someday she will return to Him and He will heal her. Her current suffering will be like a vague dream.But this time as I watched her proceed with her awkward and painful-looking swagger, reality stuck its foot in front of me and knocked me down. Reality was the probability that our existence actually ceases when we die. That there is no afterlife. Since my non-belief was still new to me I had not yet considered all the ramifications.
With my old perception I could enjoy the idea that this woman would someday have full function and her reward after death would more than make up for her loss on earth. But now all I could do was ask, "What is the point then?
What does it mean for all the billions of people who endure lives of suffering? That there’s no reward for them later? There is nothing to look forward to? Without a soul that continues after death, what is the purpose of all the pain and suffering that, thankfully, I have been fortunate enough to avoid?
For many of us the last hope that lingers after we no longer believe in gods is that there will still somehow be an afterlife. It doesn’t really make much sense. What evidence is there for the existence of an eternal soul that isn’t just as flimsy as that for the gods?
Yet somehow, the need to believe that our souls continue after death is harder to sluff off. As long as we have had consciousness we have existed. Since we have never been around to witness our own non-existence, we do not have a capacity to imagine it.
I recently interviewed Dale McGowan, author of the new book, Parenting Beyond Belief, for my blog. One of my readers wanted to know what Dale’s beliefs were about souls and death. This was a part of Dale’s answer:
Whatever sense of self and personal identity we have springs entirely from the constantly recomposed electrochemical symphony playing in our heads. Some find that horrifying; I find it utterly amazing. And asking where our "self" goes when that electro-chemical symphony stops playing is just like asking where the music goes when an orchestra stops playing.
The fact that nature selects traits that make an organism good at surviving may have something to do with our need to exist forever. It is important for us to have a drive to continue. In fact, it should be our strongest drive.
In addition to this natural need are real fears, some of which actually derive from the evolutionary need to ensure our genes survive. One parent left a comment on my blog in response to a post on this very subject:
I’ve been giving this [death] a great deal of thought over the last couple of years. The reason is that I became a father two years ago to the most beautiful child in the universe (naturally). I want to do everything I can to protect her from harm. That’s hard to do if you die.
The fact of our death and the probability that our consciousness will cease is not going to change with our hope. What can change is our focus. I might fear what will happen to my children when I am gone but I can do something about it. For example, I can leave pieces of myself and what I believe through my Life Art (scrapbooking).
We can worry about our time ending or we can use the time we have. I’ve learned to eliminate things that do not give me true personal fulfillment and joy. I step out of my comfort zone all the time and make sure I live the life and experience the things that I really want. Right now. I also make daily efforts to improve my health so that I can increase my chances of a prolonged life.
However sad the prospect of death, my acceptance of it has made everything richer. Death reminds us how valuable life is.
And what of the handicapped woman and all the others whose suffering do not allow them to live life to the fullest? Well, that gives us all the more reason to find meaning in helping others, doesn’t it?
Noell Hyman writes for her blog, AgnosticMom.com. She has been blogging since August of 2005. Relatively new to the humanist landscape, Noell declared herself a humanist some time in the year of 2002 after leaving religion, specifically the Mormon Church. A stay-at-home mother of three young children, Noell's aim is to reach other non-religious parents who find themselves isolated in the struggle to raise a healthy family without religion. Noell wants to make "Agnostic Mom" a humanist and secular household name. Visit: www.AgnosticMom.com
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